Fright Night (1985) Rose & Jerry: THE ONE Moment in Time
by GaGa4FrightNight
Summary: Fore twenty-five years Rose was always beside Jerry but one moment in time he was without her. After their immortal nuptials, Rose was left in a deep sleep of the undead while her body appropriately aged. And during those six months Jerry found a way to connect with her buried subconscious. Truths are revealed. But also given to Jerry, the belief in destiny and fate.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Though the telling of their story had come to an end as their eternal lives continue to move forward, there is but one fragment of time not told. Untold was the moment in their lives where Rose and Jerry were separated for six months. A time where Jerry continued his existence without his blossoming eternal Rose as she continuously lay within the sleep of the undead.

Such a small fragment of time for them both but seemingly a lifetime for Jerry.

Before Rose came along Jerry had ritualistically lived his life the same every evening when the clocks chimed dusk. Even within his year as a ghostly entrapped presence within 99 Oak, that immortal life continued with seclusion. Yet, all had changed the moment the fowl mouthed and spunky strawberry blonde penetrated through his prison walls then eventually helped crumble those walls and gave him the opportunity to reclaim his eternal darkness in physical form. And when he stepped outward into reality he embraced what was deemed his atonement, embraced Rose and delivered away from Death's callous clutches.

And for decades Jerry was not alone within his darkness. Barely a moment was spent without his forever Rose. The regained life had become the opposite of the previous existence with his Rose firmly rooted in his lifeless heart. He no longer was alone. His life was shared with another besides the typical day watcher. And every evening when clocks chimed announcing the setting sun, his Rose was there. And every morning upon sunrise the clocks again chimed, his Rose was there.

Yet, for those six months, he again knew the meaning of being alone. He knew the outcome of the immortal ritual performed on the rooftop, she would be, in ways, taken from him momentarily. But he had not predicted the depth and width of the vacancy and loneliness that would be endured without her.

Within those months, not even his ritualistic moments of gazing down upon her as she laid within her coffin seemed to ease the return of loneliness. Each evening he opened her coffin, she lay lifeless yet the physical changes were visible. Every morning he again would open her coffin to see the same still and silent Rose as those blossoming changes continued.

There was an attempt to occupy himself with the renovation of the Crosswind funeral home but each evening and morning he was persistently reminded of the vacancy she left behind. And in a desperate moment he attempted a feat that had not been done since before he returned to the world of the living. There was a desperation to again penetrate through the walls of her death slumber. Each evening he would lay back within his sacred coffin then focus on the direction of her subconscious.

Morning after morning he desperately tried to deliver himself to her through their subconscious connection, just as they had shared decades before. And when hope of such a feat being succeeded had seemed to fade, he dreamt for the first time in centuries. But was it just his dream? Was it perhaps hers as well?

Surreal. Yes, surreal.

The cool moist sand was felt beneath his bare feet followed by the caress of chilled ocean water. The gentle touch of a cool breeze brushed against him carrying the unique salty sea aroma. The song of the sea was prominent as the waves danced and in the distance a bell chime of a rocking buoy. Yet visually, the surroundings were muddled by the weight of a heavy fog. High above there was the blurred glow of an obvious full moon hidden behind the thick blanketing fog.

Then something familiar arose. A distinct sound began to rise within the environment. All around the sound continued its dramatic rise. The harmonic sound of an electric guitar echoed as the high pitch wail gradually began an all too familiar song.

Across his lips formed a smile. Yes, he remembered the song that rose powerfully around him. That particular song was heard for the first time twenty five years prior within Rose's dream which somehow had crossed over into reality. It was the dream and reality that gave hope he would find the doorway back into physical existence.

Again, that song was heard playing, the evening he found her after many months of searching. He had found his way back into existence then found her in the midst of a ritual farewell to her life but mostly his memory. And that evening, his atonement came full circle and from a mortal death he stole her and in return gave her eternity, made her his forever Rose.

His footing shifted and to the side he moved. His eyes searched the looming fog as the song continued to echo. He predicted there were cliffs beyond the layer of fog which caused the song's nearly haunting sound.

Then with a slight gust of wind the fog seemed to shift and slightly lighten. Into his sight came an illumination, an orange glow developed as an undoubted beacon. He moved towards the glow, felt the cool sand transition from firm and wet to soft and dry. His eyes held focus on the glow as it gradually became clearer. Soon it became obvious the glow radiated from a bonfire.

Stepping outward from behind the drape of fog, he emerged.

The environment had become crystal clear and indeed there were towering cliffs which were always be part of Rose. Then the sound of muffled voices slowly developed within the music.

His eyes shifted in direction of the voices as they raised just as did music. His eyes continued to shift and before them developed several figures. Firstly the figures seemed almost ghostly then bit by bit they became solid. Instantly he recognized one in individual. There was his Rose just as she was the first time he they had met.

Several teenagers surrounded Rose, their smiling faces were all around her. A bottle of obvious liquor was passed between them while the music shifted into a more raunchier heavy metal melody.

His eyes frowned with the realization he was not seen. He stood before the light of the roaring dancing flames but was not seen. Not being seen was not what he had hoped. He wanted nothing but to share the depths of her mind but oddly it was not like it was before. His Rose took no notice of his presence.

Rose stood up and lifted the half drank bottle of liquor then shouted, "Here's to not having to move!" she then praised, "Thanks Dad for not moving my ass to bum fucked Egypt out West!" She quickly took a long swallow from the bottle as her teenage friends cheered.

His frowned tensed. What was he witnessing?

Rose lowered the bottle as she again flopped down within her friends. She was eagerly embraced by another familiar but younger face, Antony. She loudly giggled in response to Antony burying his face against her neck. Then her fire intensified blue eyes shifted towards the raging bonfire. Void of glasses she squinted.

For a moment, it seemed, Rose's eyes held Jerry's then something dropped passed his vision, his eyes blinked. His eyes shifted down as the cheering grew louder with more celebration. At his feet was a black graduation cap.

His eyes slowly shifted upward and gradually frowned with confused question. Before him was the same group of teenagers which included Rose. As his eyes focused on her, other caps dropped to the ground as the bonfire continued to burn brightly and illuminated the celebration.

Rose now pranced around while she stripped away the traditional high school graduation gown and her friends did the same. The music played loudly as they continued to celebrate the day they were freed from dreaded high school society. Their lives have become their own, including Rose.

The friends began strip off more than their graduation gowns. One by one their clothes were strewn as they each darted towards the shoreline and vanished in the thickening rise of fog.

His eyes focused on Rose. There was true happiness seen throughout her smiling features. Yet, he was confused what was being seen. At that point she would have neared mortal death but the eighteen year old youth before him revealed not one sign of near death. In fact, she was beyond beaming as she smiled wide.

Rose pulled her dress over her head and prepared to follow her friends. She suddenly paused with an odd sense of being watched. As before, void of her glasses, her eyes squinted as there were aimed at the bonfire. There was a weird sense that something was there near the bonfire. Then two arms embraced her from behind; Antony lifted her up off her feet.

Again her eyes seemingly had focused with his. Then he blinked and she was carried away by an eighteen year old Antony in the direction of loud laughter and splashing. His feet shifted as he watched their image fade from his view as the fog rapidly grew heavier and swallowed the visual. Then within the distance echoed the familiar chimes of his clock collection.

From his slumber the clocks woke him. He effortlessly rose from his intricate cherry wood coffin. But with new ritual, he stepped to Rose's sleek black coffin, opened the lid, and observed her subtle physical changes. His eyes studied her lifeless face and saw very subtle maturity compared to how she appeared the previous morning. She remained youthful.

What part of her mind had he entered? There was an obvious time line being revealed to him from the depths of her subconscious. The line seemingly revealed an alternate scenario where her father never moved their family to 99 Oak. In reality, she hadn't graduated with her peers, her illness forced an early graduation. She had never experienced wearing the traditional cap and gown nor the celebration of an end to her high school era.

His hand grazed the side of her lifeless and icy face then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against her stiff subtle full deathly pale mouth.

What will he witness if he managed to again slip into her buried subconscious? Though not real, he somewhat feared what else would have transpired if they hadn't met when she was merely seventeen. What part of her life would the dreaded Leukemia have reared it's ugly head? And why hadn't shown itself within what he witnessed?

Questions, he predicted, would be answered with each emergence into her mind.

 _ **Author Note:**_

 _ **Well, this is the beginning of that hint I dropped at the end of Rose's Journey. Filling in the gap of those six months while Rose blossomed physically into a forty-three year old smart ass. Yet, there will be some serious revelations as well throughout this piece.**_

 _ **~GaGa~**_

 _ **FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

More evenings passed. Jerry discovered a struggle to again penetrate Rose's subconscious. Each morning he desperately tried to mentally pry through any available gaps but for nearly two weeks it seemed he would not be permitted to again enter the gateway to where her delicate subconscious was buried beneath layers of death. Yet, every evening he saw changes, she continue to age bit by bit.

He became frustrated. The strangeness of his previous success of entering her subconscious nagged him. He wanted to continue but also feared doing so. Yet, he needed to see her in with life instead of laying lifeless within her coffin. So, he continued his attempts.

Then finally her subconscious randomly opened to him again and again he submerged himself into her mind.

Again the shoreline. Again the heavy fog. All seemed the same as before until came the rain but what rained down were rose petals of all colors. His eyes watched the rain of petals surround him. He slowly turned as the fog faded beneath the array of delicate colors. And then came another one of Rose's ballads as a soft whisper within the environment.

He recognized the song, heard twenty-five years ago. A moment within Rose's dream where he relinquished part of his control. The song, read within her thoughts, was described as morbidly romantic; Gonna Get Close to You by Queensryche.

The fog dissipated and the brightness of a full moon illuminated entire beach and the surrounding cliffs. Then came the sound of distant laughter mingled within the quiet melody.

He stepped forward, his bare feet pressed down against the rose petals blanketing the sand. He followed the sounds of continuous laughter. The closer he neared the laughter, it became apparent there was more than one being heard. One laugh he recognized as Rose's, hers was always unmistakable. And the laughter drifted higher over the metal melody.

In the distance came a visual of pure white.

He froze as the white continued his direction. And in moments his Rose came into view dressed in flowing white crinoline and satin. His eyes frowned. The moonlight illuminated her clearer, he saw the distinct flows of a white veil dancing in the sea breeze. Her laughter continued to echo against the cliffs as did a man's.

Before him he watched as Rose stumbled to a stop then too eagerly she wrapped her arms around the neck of, again, Antony. His brow tensed, the furrow lines deepened. He disapproved of what was being shown to him. His Rose was a bride dressed in a knee length white dress as the obvious groom was dressed in a crisp white button down.

Then his distaste of the scenario increased.

Rose's voice loudly sang, "I love you, Mr. Morello!"

Then Antony sang back, "And I love you, Mrs. Morello!"

His lips slightly sneered, forced to witness Rose passionately kiss Antony who in more recent events attempted to kill her. He became frustrated with what was shown to him. She was his Rose. Though he understood there was no reality within that subconscious plain, he still felt the rise of jealousy.

Their lippy embrace ended and both giggled. They grasped hands and started across the sand barefooted.

His eyes reluctantly followed as they ran nearer. He immediately saw in the brightness of the moonlight that she had to be in her mid twenties.

Rose stopped just beside Jerry. She laughed, "Hold up, shithead." She reached up and removed the veil from her pinned strawberry blonde hair. Her head turned as her arm extended out with the grasped veil tossing in the breeze. Void of her glasses, her eyes squinted.

His large eyes softened with the image of her moonlight illuminated face. She was bit older but so beautiful. Again, it seemed her eyes somewhat focused on him. Did she sense him? Could she see part of him?

Antony's voice yelled, "Come on, babe, sex on the beach as husband and wife!"

Rose's attention was stolen back to the unreal reality. She looked forward and yelled back, "Dammit, I'm coming!" Her hand released the delicate veil.

His hand reached and snatched the flowing veil. His eyes shifted as he gathered the veil against him, her unique scent was fragrant throughout the material. Then before his eyes the fog again formed and she vanished behind it as the laughter faded.

He jerked his hand down and allowed the veil to fall. His eyes shifted with frustration. He felt tortured by everything that had been so far witnessed. Desperately he mentally repeated that none of what was seen was real. In time she would wake and return to him as only his Rose. Everything would be perfect.

Then a sound drew his attention where the fog had swallowed her image. His feet shifted his body aimed and eyes focused.

Within the swarming thick fog developed distinct crying and sobs blended within another one of Rose's melodies; Save all Your Love by Great White.

He moved forward towards the sounds of sadness that were intensified by the softly playing music. And further he stepped, the fog again started to dissipate but the crying and sobs grew louder drowning out the music. Then the fog lifted and again there was the shoreline with another brilliant moon illuminating the surroundings which included a familiar lone female figure seated just at the edge of the sloshing water with a boombox beside her.

He approached, heard sniffles try to stifle the louder cries. In moments he stood behind her, his Rose.

Rose sat slumped with her arms wrapped around her raised knees and head hung down.

He stepped beside her and looked down. Her hair veiled the sides of her face as her head rested against her hugged knees. The expression of his eyes softened with a questioning furrow about his brow.

Her head finally lifted then her hands tucked the sides of her hair behind her ears. She loudly sniffled then used her full hand to wipe her nose. Then her sob cracked voice spoke out to the ocean, "Why?" she took a deep breath then asked aloud, "Why can't I have a baby?"

He truly felt sorry for her. He wished he could console her.

Her head tilted back as she released a loud mournful sob. Her blue teary eyes peered up at the night sky filled with millions of stars as tears glistened down her freckled cheeks. She asked whatever was there, "Why me?" she then took a shaky breath and again released with a sob, "I want a baby, dammit."

He saw her face clearer. She was at least thirty but still a radiant beauty. Yet the heartbreak firmly etched through her tear glistening face made his own heart ache with hers. What he saw, would it have been if she had not moved to 99 Oak? Was he witnessing the path her life would have gone if they had not met? Was the pain he watched her suffered before him what would have been endured?

Then her eyes shifted and squinted.

He stared down into her eyes. Could she truly feel him?

His voice softly spoke her name, "Rose."

Her eyes squinted with a frown.

The chimes of the clocks started to echo around him. He felt his time to waken and regretted she would not. His hand lifted, desired to touch her but before his eyes her teary but confused expression started to fade as the clocks continued to chime.

He again spoke, "Oh, my Rose."

His eyes snapped open, returned to reality. From his coffin he emerged and to hers he moved. The coffin lid opened, he looked down at his forever Rose. He was unable to touch her within that seemingly cruel subconscious world and, so, his hand rested against her icy cold cheek. No tears but also no life. Yet, just as in the mysterious world beyond her death slumber, she appeared as a woman of thirty.

His fingertips gently traced the shape of her cheek and he spoke, "It will be over soon and you will be complete and completely mine."

Reluctantly he left her coffin side to begin another evening without her.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Jerry watched as one by one the framed posters were removed from the walls. Rose's heavy metal and hard rock time line was packed away as it was time to begin the remodeling of upper floors of the funeral home. Box by box was filled with her collected belongings. Her entire rock inspired wardrobe was packed. Though it was only temporary, he disliked the clearing of her things.

As Benny carefully continued to pack up Rose's room, Jerry turned to face the infamous record player that went everywhere they went. His lips formed a smile, all those pristine pieces of vinyl kept in proper alphabetical order. He was drawn to the floor to ceiling shelving where her collection of heavy metal and hard rock was so neatly in place.

He stepped before the array of everything Rose described as hard rocking and head banging. He mused, most of everything Rose did was always messy but one thing she always prided to keep tidy was her beloved music collection. His eyes scanned the shelves tightly compacted with her vast collection as song came to mind. Most of the time he simply tolerated her music taste but there was a song in particular Rose mentioned as 'their song'.

He softly chuckled. The majority of his existence there was never a song he could label having any meaning besides the melody of the long gone ivory music box. Yet, Rose deemed befitting to basically create an entire soundtrack dedicated their life together. Each song, for her, had meaning and defined a part of their life.

His eyes continued to scan each record album then they stopped the moment the sought after album was found. His hand reached and from its placement he removed the specific record album where their so called song was located. The record in hand, he left the room to leave Benny to finish packing.

He entered the 'entertainment' parlor on the main floor.

Stella stepped passed with the evening's lifeless guest draped over her shoulder.

To another record player he stepped then lifted the tinted encasement. From the album sleeve the vinyl record was removed then carefully placed onto the turntable. His eyes made quick scan of the song list then delivered and lowered the arm onto the record. The player was switched on, the turntable started to spin then the specific song started to softly play from the speakers.

He stepped back and, unlike him, turned the volume higher and allowed the song to play as Rose believed it always was meant to be heard. Loudly the music sang and filled the parlor and his mind.

The night she announced that the song Always Somewhere by her beloved Scorpions was their song, he came face to face with nearly losing her. His eyes deeply frowned. He nearly lost her to the very man who in her subconscious existence became her husband. Such oddities he had been exposed to by her deepest subconscious plains. There was a sense, no an actual knowledge he had been witnessing Rose's journey if she had never, at seventeen, been moved to 99 Oak.

What had been shown to him was life for Rose would have been quite rocky if their strange paths had not crossed. But what seemed so odd was the fact he had not witnessed the emergence of the cancerous disease. Yes, he witnessed happiness then deep sadness but not one hint of the disease. He knew it was there for he tasted it twenty-five years ago. He was confused why her journey would have continued if he hadn't been there. She would have lived longer than the original and true story had been written.

The song ended, he turned off the record player.

Again, by morning he tried to draw himself into her subconscious but the wall again strong and no cracks were found. And continuously he tried to reach out to her but was denied access. His frustrations returned as every morning announced another failure. But within Rose's coffin, she continued to age.

So, for two months he repeatedly failed until finally a crack in the protective subconscious wall formed and into that dreamlike plain he entered. Yet, the entrance seemed muddled, more distorted than previously experienced. The months, during which he was unable to penetrate her mind, seemed to speedily play forward within a whirlwind of images. Each blink of his eyes another image jumped forward.

Rose's years sped forward as another one of her many songs played out with each jumping scenario. In his ears he heard the powerful sound of No Body's Fool by her beloved Cinderella but jumbled within the music were constant yelling voices. He witnessed argument after argument between Rose and Antony.

Her rage was evident through the glimpses of her aging features. Objects were thrown and shattered. Her colorful language was filled with shouted hate. Doors slammed with pure anger. He caught glimpses of what triggered her angered fits.

Antony was always the source of each of those shown arguments. There were moments the so called husband was revealed drunk on what seemed a regular basis. Then there were those moments an enraged Rose stormed through doors to find Antony in the midst of committing the ultimate betrayal, another woman.

He bore witness to further pains, the loss of her brother Jacob during the 9/11 tragedy where the younger sibling died in fireman uniform. Then witnessed was the death of her father Jon brought on by complications from a stroke, similar to what had truthfully transpired. And through both those deaths she practically suffered alone as Antony abandoned her during those most painful moments.

And as the song faded, he bared the result of Rose's turmoil.

She sat centered in a filled claw foot tub. Her arms tightly hugged around her knees with her face buried against them. And within that steamy bathroom another song started to play as she sat silent.

He recognized the song. Not long ago she had introduced him to the somber melody and admittedly he found it lovely in comparison to her other ballads. The mournful vocals mingled with the beautifully played guitar gave the scenario before him such a pained weight.

MSG's Never Ending Nightmare cried out and surrounded Rose in her silent and still state. Her back slumped, she continued to huddle her arms around her legs. Not a sob nor soft cry came from her. She seemed consumed.

He stood there in watch, his eyes heavy with sympathy and concern for his Rose. He concluded, she would have suffered greater if they had not crossed paths. The life she would have experienced seemed harsher than death at eighteen.

The song continued to softly play as the bathroom door swung open.

His eyes turned and swiftly narrowed with hate as Antony entered Rose's silence and attempt at solace. His lips sneered with a glimpse of grown fangs. Though, in reality, Antony Morello died by his hand, the very image of the man triggered his anger for in either existence the worthless man cause his precious forever Rose so much pain. His fingers extended with sharply tipped nails then his hand darted up. His desire to grasp the man by the throat failed for his hand simply passed through the ghost-like image.

His red and orange consumed eyes shifted as Antony stepped to the side of the tub.

He witnessed all the hell Antony had or would have put Rose through. The hell she would have endured without his entrance into her life would have been thousands of times worse than what was given. In fact, their life together was not hell. Yes, she suffered alone for months during his absence but he returned and fulfilled his chosen atonement. And he knew the fool before him could never do as he had.

The useless mortal man Antony Morello could never have saved Rose from the blood disease. In fact, the miniscule Antony lacked any redeeming qualities whatsoever. Yes, the vampire Jerry Dandridge lived an unimaginable life taking many lives of the unwanted but he saved one life in all his existence that was of great importance, his Rose. Yes, the immortal creature Jerry never thought redemption could be his but his atonement was won the moment he stole Rose from the firm grasp of mortal death and gave her eternity as his forever and always Rose.

His angered thoughts were broken.

Antony spoke, "Alright." The lingering effect of booze was within his speech.

Rose slowly lifted her head.

The pain throughout Rose's face tormented Jerry. He watched her tear glazed eyes dully peer up at Antony. He immediately noted, though her face was riddled with the effect of emotions, the emotions seemed void. She seemed more of a wilted Rose in comparison to fiery creature he could not live without. The strains of her life were vivid within the glossy deep blue of her eyes. And his lifeless heart sank for he had never witnessed such a vacancy about her lovely face where there were typically abundant expressions.

Antony repeated, "Alright." he seemed reluctant, "We'll get the hell outta here." he huffed, "I'll take the job out west like your dad wanted." He stood as if in wait for her response.

Rose made not one gesture but simply looked forward.

Antony griped, "Jesus!" he turned to leave, "Get what you want and you can't even say thanks."

The door slammed.

Jerry flashed a quick snarl at the closed door but his attention darted back to Rose. He approached the tub as the steam within the room started to thicken. His mind thought, the west, could it be possible?

He crouched down beside the tub and focused on her somber and emotionless profile. His eyes watched closely as she blinked, a trickle of tears streaked down over her flushed cheeks.

Then she spoke, "Get what I want?" her voice was drained of any real emotion, "When do I ever get what I want?" her eyes shifted with another blink then emerged another trickle of tears, "Will I ever get what I really want?"

His eyes quickly frowned. Did she see him? Was she looking at him?

The steam thickened more like the heaviness of fog.

His eyes focused with hers and watched her slightly squint. His eyes held hers as the transformed steam began to fade her image. He spoke her name, "Rose." And then she was gone.

He slowly rose up and eyes attempted to search through the thick fog. What would be revealed once the fog dissipated?

Then there came the aroma of old, a familiar musty aged smell filled his senses.

The fog began to lower but only darkness was unveiled. In the darkness came the sound of footsteps followed by a glimpse of a light.

His eyes darted in direction of the light.

A beam of light shown through an all too familiar doorway; the stairwell entrance to the basement of 99 Oak.

His eyes made a quick scan as the light dimly illuminated his surroundings. Yes, it was the very basement he met his demise twenty-seven years ago. His attention focused on the brightening light then he heard a familiar voice cussing which perked a grin across his lips.

"Stupid old house." Rose's voice emerged from behind the held flashlight, "Stupid ass Ant leaving me here alone to deal with this bullshit."

Rose stepped a barefoot onto the dirty basement floor as she scanned the flashlight through the emptiness. She grimaced as an arm huddled over her chest. Her breath was visible in the light as she mumbled, "Where the fuck are ya?"

He watched her move across the floor and knew she searched for the fuse box. Such a true surreal moment. Yes, it was not real but it felt otherwise. They returned where it had started for them but twisted into current times. She was obviously forty-three but even within that dim lighting she radiated beauty while her eyes searched through the lenses of her glasses.

His eyes followed as she carefully stepped barefooted across the floor then he amusingly listened to her state, "There you are, ya piece of shit!"

The flashlight shined on a huge fuse box and she stepped up to it. She grimaced, feared the power wouldn't be able to be turned on because there was not a single extra fuse in the house she could find. The metal door was opened and she sighed, "Thank god." Not a fuse box but a breaker box.

With an on/off switch, the power was restored to the old Victorian.

She laughed aloud then shouted, "Yeah, damn straight!"

He held his smile and watched her turn around. Though she was older, there was no doubt she was still his big mouthed Rose. A much more pleasant visual than previously displayed.

In that universe she managed to find her way to 99 Oak. And, he questioned in thought, did that entail he was again a spectral being?

She scanned the light throughout the basement. Forward she stepped.

His eyes widened and watched her step directly towards him. Then came the sensation he had not felt in over two decades. Her body passed through him and he immediately shuddered. Yes, his question was answered, again he became a spirit in that obscure subconscious plain. He felt the burning heat of her life's essence momentarily burst through him.

She paused with a little tremble having felt a deep chill. Her attention returned to the task at hand. Her hand darted up and snatched a dangling chain. With a tug, the dank basement was somewhat illuminated. She spun around and eyed the huge monster of a furnace. Her eyes narrowed at the eyesore and she thought, looked like something Freddy Kruger would love.

"Alright, Freddy." she sang then marched toward the dead furnace. But immediately she stopped again feeling the deep chill then complained, "Piece of shit furnace." She suspected the dropping temperatures in the house caused her burst of chills.

He again shuddered after she had again passed through him.

She grumbled, "Screw this." then back towards the stairwell she stomped, "Ant can deal with it!"

He watched her vanish up the stairwell. His eyes shifted down, he was illuminated by the light dangling from the basement ceiling. His face grimaced then he groaned, "Again?" His head shook with disapproval for he was again dressed in the gray leather trench coat, red scarf, and snap button shirt; the last ensemble he wore when Charley Brewster and Peter Vincent destroyed him.

Rose wrapped herself in a heavy quilt to avoid the old house's creepy chill. She retreated to the living room with a hot cup of coffee. Onto the sofa she flopped then turned on the television with the use of a remote. She sipped the steaming coffee while her thumb speedily worked the remote changing channels at a high rate.

The perfect channel was found, VH1 Classics. Her lips smiled wide as before her blue eyes played the perfect Judas Priest music video. Then her smile faded as the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Her eyes frowned, again her breath became visible but even more so with the use of the hot coffee. Back and forth her eyes shifted. Something felt weird about the house, the environment shifted with a creepier vibe.

Jerry sat on the other end of the sofa. His lips again smiled as the high vocals of one of Rose's many heavy metal gods, Rob Halford sang from the television. He spoke to her, "I will always question your taste in music."

Why did she have the uneasy sense like someone watched her? Her eyes continued to nervously shift about the room.

He commented, "You feel me."

She shivered and tried to huddle within the quilt. How she hated being alone in the house while Ant was at work. She was far from the east coast and stuck in a spooky wreck of a house decades abandoned. Yet, the move was what she wanted in hopes for a fresh start but so far there seemed no freshness, just stale oldness everywhere around her.

"Rose," he spoke her name then stated, "I'm here."

She heavily breathed, her breath thickly visible against the icy air. Her mind traveled an odd direction. Was she possibly feeling something that might have followed her?

Since she was seventeen there came a sense something was with her. The evening of her celebration for not moving where she was at the moment, moments in her life she had a hint perhaps something was watching over her. She had hoped it was her mother Ann Garrett.

She slowly rose up, set the mug atop the coffee table, then hugged the quilt around her. Her mind trailed further into the supernatural direction which lured her to a linen closet. She retrieved a very old and worn box from the closet then returned to the living room.

He sat and watched the beginning of a familiar scenario. His eyes focused as Rose removed the old Ouija board and set it up atop the coffee table. Again, it started but in a whole other time line. He knew she assumed the presence felt was her mother's which had originally provoked her to use the Spirit Board in 1986.

Her eyes stared at the planchett while her hands slowly emerged from the warmth of the quilt. There were many times she attempted to use the board but nothing ever came of it. Was she again setting herself up for disappointment?

His eyes also focused on the planchett. He listened to the voice of her thoughts question the existence of her mother's spirit. His eyes then blinked.

She gasped, the planchett started to move. Her eyes widened and followed the planchett move in a downward angle. Her mouth remained gaped as her breaths were continuously visible. Then she held her breath the moment the planchett stopped directly over 'no'.

No time to dilly dally, his eyes dart and shifted direction.

With a startle, she slammed back against the sofa the moment her wide open eyes watched the planchett move with a burst and fly right off the board. She mumbled, "Not good." Then she suddenly darted up, the quilt dropped, and quickly she put the board back into the box. Shakily she snatched up the planchett and tossed it atop the board.

The lid put back on, she nearly ran back to the linen closet then threw it inside. Out of breath, she slammed the closet door closed, pointed at it, then panted, "Stay!"

She caught her breath but the weight of creepiness escalated. An expression of dread etched over her expression. There was a distinct nagging which pleaded for her not to turn around. She swallowed against the fearful lump in her throat.

Directly behind her he stepped then eagerly greeted, "Hello, Rose."

With a short scream, she jumped forward and slammed against the closet door. She spun around and again slammed back against the door. Her eyes were their widest as they stared in shock through the lenses of her black framed glasses. Clearly before her was a man. Or, she thought, was he a ghost? Who or what was directly before her and, she slightly frowned, smiling at her?

Truly nice to be seen, he thought. After all those brief moments where he assumed she saw and felt him throughout the strange journey, right then she truly saw him. And his smile broadened for within the back of her frightened thoughts sang a very familiar song.

Her eyes held their frown. She had not thought of that song in forever. Whatever she was looking at and looking back at her gave a whole other meaning to the long forgotten Scorpions' tune Hey You. Lyric after lyric, the thing before her started to represent. Her head slowly titled. The song started to sing louder in her head the more she stared at the person or thing.

He spoke the lyrics, "Hey you, I'm in love with your eyes and the sound of your name." he stepped forward, "Hey you, I'm in love with your smile."

Pinned against the door by fear, she murmured, "What the…" Did it just say the same lyrics she heard singing in her head? Could it read her thoughts?

His smile broadened and he again greeted, "Hello, Rose."

She suddenly spat, "What the fuck are ya?!"

He chuckled in response to her colorful question.

She then spat, "Who the fuck are ya?!"

Again he chuckled.

She grimaced. Was he or what seriously laughing?

He had to comment, "You have no idea how nice it is to hear you speak to me." Yes, though quite profane, her voice speaking to him was wonderful to hear.

She retorted, "You have no idea how damn horrifying it is to have you speaking to me, whatever ya are!" she then commented aloud, "I've lost my mind."

He shook his head and stated, "No you haven't."

Her face continued to grimace then she ordered, "Stop talking to me."

His head again shook and he denied, "No."

"What ya mean no?" she questioned.

"No." he simply replied, "I am taking whatever is given to me at this point."

Her eyes frowned with question, "What ya mean?"

He studied her face for a moment. She was still Rose but mature. Her freckles remained dusted across her cheeks. Every feature was the same and enhanced by the beauty of maturity. His eyes scanned down and he literally hummed in approval for quite lovely her breasts were while embraced by a band tee adorned with the zombie like image of Iron Maiden's mascot Eddie.

Her eyes glanced down then looked back at the ogling good looking something and questioned, "Are ya seriously eyeing my tits?!"

He slowly nodded and complimented, "Quite lovely."

She griped, "Great, just great, a pervert for a ghost."

His eyes lifted and found hers then he stated, "Just wait until you fall asleep."

Her mouth dropped open then reluctantly questioned, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

His lips transformed into a sly grin then he answered, "No limitations." He was definitely going to take advantage whatever that plain offered him. None reality with her was better than reality without her. What played out, he would embrace for all he wanted was to embrace her in his arms again.

"You're creepy." she commented with her eyes suspiciously eyeing him, "You're a creepy perverted ghost." But, she added in thought, damn fine looking too.

He chuckled with amusement in response to her loud thought then agreed, "That I am."

She gasped then stated, "Oh, you're a creepy, perverted, and conceded ghost." she then complained, "Quit reading my thoughts, weirdo!"

He sighed a familiar line, "Nothing wrong with knowing how attractive one is." he then added, "And no, I quite enjoy the thoughts you're having of me."

She swallowed then darted to her right and demanded, "Okay, go away now." She anxiously scampered in the direction of the kitchen.

He watched her hurry away and went silent. Yes, he agreed, much better than being without her at all.

Rose made an attempt to beg her husband to come home but he refused to listen to her story about a ghost. She became frustrated though whatever she experienced had not again popped up. She again found herself huddled on the sofa beneath the quilt with the cordless house phone against her chest. Her eyes were in constant watch. Her ears listened closely for any sign of anything creepy. Yet, the wait for another episode of crazy led to her falling asleep leaned against the sofa arm.

Finally she fell asleep as he stood waiting. He already had images in his mind of what would transpire once he entered another part of her subconscious. Odd to be within one plain to seep his way into another. But he desired to do whatever needed to ease his loneliness being without her. And, so, his eyes closed and easily he slipped into another dreamlike state where this time he was determined to touch his Rose.


End file.
